


The Least of Us

by Critter_Cantrip



Series: Dancing with Fire [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Harm to Children, M/M, This is a series and y'all know where caleb comes from by now, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:53:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Critter_Cantrip/pseuds/Critter_Cantrip
Summary: As the Nein run from their fame and Mollymauk's past they hear tales of a town where children are disappearing. Can they slay the monster of the week when secrets are being withheld within and without the party, Jester and Mollymauk are near mad to stop any more deaths, and Caleb can barely control his own demon?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VioletHalo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=VioletHalo).



> This may never be finished -- in part because my life is full of other creative ventures that consume time like vampires consume blood, and in part because, really, after certain events, I don't really WANT to write Molly in this fashion. I'm much more inclined to let them wander off in my mind and find some sense of happiness and purpose together than dwell on this dark moment.

“You’re not happy,” Nott said, her tone speaking volumes of the source of this unhappiness.

Caleb sighed and adjusted his seat slightly. It was hard to escape a conversation when the goblin was currently riding in his lap, snuggled against his stomach and half hidden under his coat. A tuft of her hair escaped the braided band of her rabbit fur earmuffs. It wobbled when she spoke.

“It’s not right. Him brushing you off like this.” Not sniffed.

She wasn’t entirely wrong. Not entirely right either but…

The road had been clear for a few days out of Zadash and the Nein made good time. Caleb had hoped they might speak frankly as they increased the distance between Mollymauk and those who had tried to entangle him in his past. The biting cold was miserable, true, but that was more excuse for those so inclined to keep warm together.

Mollymauk leapt to take watches which left Caleb’s bedroll empty. Mollymauk road rear or front and kept his gaze observant. He was polite, charming, and utterly bereft of a meaningful opinion on anything.

Caleb was desperate for a snatch of real conversation, a casual, touch, something to indicate that his demon still had a companion. 

“Molly has a lot on his mind. We’ll make sense of it all, eventually,” Caleb said. He wondered how much more he’d have to say to convince her not to prod Molly personally.

A whistle came from the front, short and sharp. Nott stopped their nag of a horse while Caleb peered ahead. Someone had crested the hill on the road, rather abruptly from their perspective.

Beau swung off her horse with a fluid quickness. Her cloak revealed a patch of blue lining asit fought the wind. She handed her horse’s reins to Fjord as he said something Caleb could not hear.

“Still trying to teach an old dog new tricks, Fjord?” Caleb muttered softly his breath.

“I think it’s helping,” Nott said. She sniffed in a definitive way. She also loaded a bolt into her crossbow, her body shielding this from the figures ahead.

The stranger met Beau a safe distance from the cart while Yasha and Molly lingered behind Beau.

Caleb itched to take the reins and get a bit closer and satisfy his curiosity while simultaneously fighting the urge for self preservation which demanded he gallop the horse in the opposite direction. He settled for fiddling with his prismatic focus in his pocket.

The two turned and walked towards the motley party. The person walked with a noticeable limp and clutched a summer weight cloak tightly to their form. Something was deeply wrong. No one in their right mind should be traveling this road alone, without so much as decent clothing and a pack on their back for food.

The wind whipped over the gathering with playful spite, ripping hoods from several heads and driving cold into delicate places. Caleb struggled with his coat for a few moments. When his hand nearly poked through the fabric at his neck he grimaced and smoothed it more gently. There was more than one idiot on the road today.

“That’s going to be a problem, isn’t it.” Nott said.

Her mournful tone caused Caleb to jerk his up from his half broken toggles. Nott had a keen eye for the obvious.

The wind had stripped the cloak away from the stranger completely and she was still fumbling with it as Caleb began to dismount. The tiefling woman was barely more fit than a walking corpse. Half a horn was missing from her right side giving her an odd, lopsided profile. Her clothing wasn’t fit for a blazingly hot summer day and had all the hallmarks of a common whore.

Somehow Jester beat the whole lot in reaching the woman. She threw her cloak, richly lined with a fur stole, over the woman’s shoulders and the woman began sobbing. There were bits of Infernal which Caleb recognized because of it’s strange cadence that broke through her despair. Jester patted the woman’s back.

The motions slowed. Then stopped. Everything became strangely still except for the wind which struck at a whimsy to rip at the edges of cloaks and bare skin alike.

Caleb reached the cluster that now surrounded the woman.

“Can’t stay here,” Molly said, raising his voice. “Wind’s picking up.”

“Backward or forward?” Beau asked,.

“No good,” Caleb said. His teeth began chattering from the loss of heat from dismounting and leaving behind Nott. He realized now how much riding pillion was benefiting the goblin. “If we head back, we’re riding into the storm’s teeth. There’s no decent shelter for hours. I can’t imagine it won’t hit soon.”

Yasha was still in her saddle, face leaned into the wind. Her hair escaped it’s braids in wild whips of white and black. “Caleb’s right. It’s going to hit any moment. We have to push forward.”

Molly spoke to the woman in Infernal. Cursed in several languages, then switched back to common. “She says the town is only an hours ride away, but she can’t return.”

“Hey, would be great to have her speak common like the rest of us,” Beau said with her usual sparse amount of social grace.

Jester turned a dangerous gaze on the monk before setting a more generous expression to her features. It was a poorly fltted character of her normal charm.

“I’ll be sure to remind you to speak clearly and politely next time you’re near dead with hypothermia.” Jester huffed and turned back to the woman and laid her hands on her heart. A moment later a pulse of gentle light infused her, and she fell into Jeseter’s arms.

“What der fik?” Caleb said.

“She’s stupid. The cold likely. Quick, clear a spot in the wagon.” Jester started to carry the woman to the back of the wagon.The next gust of wind brought a light swirl of biting ice that stung and bit. Muffled curses and cries were universal save for Jester.

“Is it our place to—” Yasha began to say.

“I’ll also be sure to leave any of you to freeze to death out here because you asked nicely.” Jester groused under her breath for a few moments before she settled the woman in the wagon under a blanket and her cloak. “Gah. Stupidity everywhere. Get to the town. We’ll hide her for now. Easy enough. Wagon still smells like Manticore goop.”

Jester turned towards Molly. “We need to talk. Warmth is warmth, get under the covers, Molly, and I’ll make sure she makes it to the town.”

Molly sighed. “Not exactly the threesome I had in mind, darling, but as the healer commands. Just promise you’ll treat any damn lice after.”

The ice began to strike in earnest and Caleb hurried to rejoin Nott and encouraged their horse closer to the others for any break in the wind it might provide.Moments later Caleb felt his breath stolen from his lungs as an icy succubus sat on his chest and breathed against his mouth. He leaned his head down and wrapped his scarf against his face, trying to take a breath that didn’t burn, to look out without the stinging white raking his eyes.

In a panic he cast out his 4 lights in the usual configuration. His world reduced to the size of one globular of light 10 feet ahead of him and 10 feet behind.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Nott began to shiver and tried to curl closer against Caleb's shirt. She managed to get a few words out over the wind. "We're going to freeze to death out here!"

Caleb was hard pressed to disagree. He brought a bit of fire into the cup of his palms with a wince. The feeling came back into his hands as the warmth danced over his fingertips.

The horse started to pull at the reins and Caleb wondered if the animal would panic and run into the fields near the road. It would be certain death without some kind of shelter.

Nott leaned her head into Caleb’s chest and he felt her hands fiddle against him. He caught “this message…” and realized she was using the message spell.

“Clever!” Caleb shouted and dismissed the bit of flame. He fetched his own wire and held it to his lips.

“Fjord, can we push forward? Do we bunker down?” Caleb asked via his wire.

“Can’t get the cart moving. Tried leading the hitched ones by the head. We have to wait it out,” Fjord replied courtesy of the spell. The worry was palpable in Fjord’s voice as it rattled about in Caleb’s skull.

It took precious minutes to cluster the group around the cart. Caleb used his lights, combined into a single brighter orb, to guide individuals to the dubious sanctuary. They tied the horses together to the cart’s rail on the lee side of the wind so they could not bolt. It wasn’t much shelter. He doubted the ones on the outside would survive. Still, they took turns in the cold and strapped the blankets they dared spare to the poor beasts.

Everyone was stuffed into the wagon now, any scrap of clothing or cloak or coat between the wind and barely clothed skin. Jester’s orders regarding their new friend became orders for everyone and for the first time in several weeks Caleb found himself in nearly full body contact with Molly. Normally the teifling gave off a stifling amount of heat when under a pile of blankets. He barely seemed warm.

Nott huddled near the tangle of their legs, next to the other tiefling woman. Yasha, Fjord and Jester were closet to the edge of the ridiculous arrangement and by some common consent no one tried to dredge up conversation beyond the necessities of ensuring everyone was still alive. Caleb noted in some ghost of wry amusement that Beau was next to Yasha. By chance of course.

A sudden gust of wind shook the wagon. Nott shrieked and Caleb felt her fumble for her flask.

“Don’t drink, damn it. Too cold for liquor!” He said. Her hand stilled. She took a tiny sip before she curled around the flask like a hot water bottle.

Caleb sighed with relief and huddled closer to Molly. He was cold, yes, but not deathly so. Unless the wagon flipped they’d all survive this storm. Frumpkin popped into existence and filled a nook against his back. The cat vibrated as it purred and provided yet another source of warmth.

He drifted in a near sleep, dangerous as that might be, his mind willing to snatch any moment of percieved safety to escape this horribly awkward situation, when the tiefling woman began to speak.

Her words were a low, mournful dirge that grew into something chaotic. Disjointed. Infernal scratched at him, a piercing wail that abruptly ended in sobs. She thrashed feebly against the press of bodies surrounding her.

He ached to cast a spell to comprehend her speech but there was no room; he was so tightly wedged he worried to take a deep breath, let alone rummage in his purse for components.

Molly exchanged a few words with her and she replied. It was enough, somehow. The woman calmed.

The storm spent itself over the course of an hour.

“We’re up,” Fjord declared. He rolled out of the wagon, ice falling off his tangle of coverings in a sheet.

Caleb pointedly ignored the near lewd comments by Jester and the testy replies from Fjord as they untangled from one another. They all reclaimed their outerwear while also attempting to regain their dignity.

The storm had coated the world in a thick crust of ice. He couldn’t tell the road from the fields. Every movement caused some variation of a crack, tinkle, or crunch as the ice broke and fell. The wagon wasso thickly covered the weight might be a problem.Two horses lay still. There was no hint of warmth from their nostrils. The ice served as a strange burial shroud.

“They’re at peace,” Yasha said. She awkwardly patted Jester’s back as the tiefling sniffled.

“I could have saved them. I didn’t. It’s my fault. I— I saved my spell just in case.” Jester was the picture of a guilty conscience.

Caleb turned away from that scene with a sigh and shrugged into his coat while his teeth chattered. He checked first on Nott. She was mostly sober and working to improve on that situation.He then turned to Mollymauk.

“The woman, What did. You.” Caleb’s words came to a stumbling halt.

Mollymauk had a craze about him. A fetching, murderous glee that Caleb wasn’t sure a stranger would recognize. His smile a bit too wide, his motions a bit too grandiose, he replied to Caleb. “It’s nothing. A triviality. We’ll talk later.”

Mollymauk trudged out into the snow and began removing a blanket from a dead horse, effectively cutting off further inquiry.

Someone was due to die and Caleb had no idea why.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Caleb felt a strange, sinking numbness consume him as he stumbled back towards Nott.

“Caleb, what’s wrong?” she asked. Her familiar hand grasped his with comforting strength.

He couldn’t speak. Not properly. He clung to her hand for several long seconds as he struggled to breath. Chest too tight. Suffocating. Burning. How would he survive without Molly? He couldn’t go back to what he had been before. Wouldn’t. Would he have a choice? Always the choice. Damnation, no.

The prick of a talon into his palm made him gasp and draw a deep, desperate breath. Then another. Better. A little better.

“Ja. Ja, danke,” he said, his voice barely audible. His body swayed and he leaned against the wagon for a few moments. The burn in his palm gave him something to draw his focus away from his spiraling thoughts.

“He’s still here.” Nott’s eyes peered up at him. She filled his vision with her worried face and those floppy ears that poked out of her ear muffs. “So am I. You’re not alone. Neither is _he_.”

Caleb snorted softly. It was rare that Nott would acknowledge his demon. She wasn’t wrong. This surge of panic had began when Molly had, in that moment, been an unknown entity; a stranger walking in a familiar skin.

And what would that mean for his demon, his stability, his first fleeting glimpse of happiness?

Caleb swallowed and ran his hand over his face. Blood smeared unfelt over his nose and cheek.

Nott tsked and rubbed at his face with the edge of her mittens. “You want Jester to fuss over you? I assume you’d rather lick this wound on your own.”

Caleb blinked stupidly at the flakes of dried blood on Nott’s blue mitten. The air had frozen the blood. Too damn cold. There was only half a day until night fall. They couldn’t afford to spend it out here and be exposed.

Right. Don’t freeze to death. Worry about Molly later. Can’t figure out your strange, undoubtedly cursed relationship if you’re a wizard icicle. 

Caleb nodded once to himself and forced a small smile. “Ja, Yes. Okay. Let’s get this Scheiß machen group into the town.” He turned to find Fjord in a struggle to break the worst of the ice off the wagon. Jester had gathered up the remaining horses and there was arguments between her and Yasha as to if they could even pull the wagon.

“We’re either walking the horses into town and leaving right now, or hitching the horses and bringing the wagon with us and leaving for town, right now. We are not well provisioned to survive a storm like that at night,” Caleb said. He pitched his voice to carry to the entire party.

“Yeah,” Fjord said. Hiss drawl was thick in a way that may have been sarcastic. "About that. There’s no damn road to follow.”

Caleb blinked. His gaze flicked to the right and left of the wagon.He’d noticed the ice, initially, of course, and been grateful that the cloud cover remained in place. Being snow blind was not idealfor travel. But he hadn’t really taken it in. No sun. No shadows. No idea where North was for anyone else beyond which way the cart was positioned.  Country roads had a tendency to menader.

He took a few ginger footsteps in the fresh ground cover. The ice was thick enough that he couldn’t tell from the sound if his foot was over grass or stone. Caleb drew his hands into his armpits and worried his lip with his teeth for a moment. "I could lead us roughly NorthWest, but that won't lead us to the town, exactly. Horses could break legs. Wagon would probably get stuck if you got it moving. We'd have to scout ahead to find the town before nightfall and while we'd probably find it in a few hours..." Caleb thought of the map in his mind. While he could see it in perfect detail he wasn't exactly sure where they were. He'd been deep in thought considering how to make a self-heating flask half the morning.

“Got any ideas rattling around in there?” Fjord asked after Caleb puffed out several steaming breaths without speaking.

“Um,” Caleb began as he dug his hands into Frumpkin’s fur. “Ja. Too cold for a sparrow or hawk to be about — and the winds — no good.” He swallowed and adjusted Frumpkin in his arms until he held him like a baby.

“I do not like this, but we need to find our way and you need to not freeze to death in the process. A fox, yes? Easy enough for a clever one like you to sense the road when we can not.” He swallowed. “A snow fox, even. A little camouflage never did anyone any harm.”

Frumpkin purred in his arms and rubbed his face against his cheek. Damn cat. Caleb rubbed his face into Frumpkin’s before settling the cat on his shoulders again.

“An hour. Get everyone and everything as ready as you can.

“Actually,” Yasha said. “I have an idea about how to move the wagon.”

Calab turned away from the conversation. He grasped the edge of the wagon and hauled himself up into the interior. Beau sat with their unexpected companion. The half horned teifling was dozing under a pile of recovered blankets. Beau had one lightly over her shoulders and looked up at his approach.

“So…” Beau said, a leading look in her face.

Caleb ignored her and rummaged through his rucksack.

“And here I’m called the uncouth one,” she said.

Caleb recognized the bite in her tone but did not reply. He unfolded the protective cloths from around a small brass brazier. Within were the charcoal, incense, and herbs that he needed to change Frumpkin’s form.

“Oh, shit. Sorry man,” Beau said with something close to sincerity when she saw the brazier.“I know you like him as a cat.”

Caleb’s hands stilled and he took a deep breath. Frumpkin’s tail tickled the inside of his nose.

“Ja. Thank you. It’s needed.”

“You want the wagon or?” she said. She eyed the sleeping tiefling as she spoke. It wasn’t so much an offer as a suggestion to find other arrangements.

“No. I’ll be fine.” Caleb hopped out of the wagon with carefully bent knees. Frumpkin barely needed to dig his nails into Caleb’s skin during the landing. Of course, the fact that Caleb felt the nails at all might explain how the fabric of the coat near his neck was now so delicate. Had it been so many months since he had first summoned the cat? It was more likely a telling sign of the age of the coat before he’d first acquired it.

He walked around to the side of the wagon where the wind had done its worst damage. The current of air had scoured the paint from the wood and left the stone roadbare.  He didn't want to find out if the wagon would protect them from a more powerful storm.

Nott kept him company as he prepared for the ritual. She carefully made no disturbance within his field of view but he felt the comforting sense of her near him. He set his mind into a familiar state of meditative clarity with a few deep breaths and lost himself in the little details; setting the coal just so, bringing the spark of fire to it with a flick of his finger and gently spreading the incense and herbs over the flame.

The wisps of smoke gave off a pungent scent that reminded him of Pumat’s shop in Zadash. He dismissed his errant thought and focused on what he wanted. A fox. A white fox. Peering over the rocks near his childhood home. The young Caleb enraptured at the sight of such a wild creature so close to him. If he could have dared reach out a hand, perhaps he could have touched it, but he had sat still in the snow for so long he doubted he could have moved with any haste. Instead the inquisitive creature sniffed near him, one paw held delicately out of the snow, before it turned and dashed into the undergrowth.

Caleb blinked as the smell of the incense cleared from his nose. A rustle near his foot caused him to glance down. Frumpkin looked up at him. His white outer coat was pristinely clean. It was a benefit of popping into existence, Caleb supposed. Never needed a bath. Frumpkin pawed at his foot before sitting on his ass in a very un-catlike manner. He tilted his head at Caleb and his bright tongue lolled out the side of his mouth as he huffed deep breaths. If Caleb didn’t know better he’d assume Frumpkin was laughing at him.

“Careful. I won’t offer you a ride on my shoulders if you’re a drooling risk.” The panting mouth snapped shut with a click of sharp teeth and Frumpkin’ eyes narrowed. Caleb swore his familiar was getting more intelligent as time went on.

It took a few moments of careful stretching before he could regain his feet. He balanced with one hand on Nott’s shoulder while he stomped some feeling into his toes. Then he magnamously scooped the fox onto his shoulder. It wasn’t as comfortable a fit but they made it work after a few awkward adjustments.

“So. What was Yasha’s solution for the wagon?” Caleb said. Nott looked up at him with a sharp turn of her head.

“I know you go into your head when you do these rituals but — you couldn’t hear the noise this whole time?” she said in her raspy voice.

“Noise?” Caleb said.

Nott gave a toothy grin and took his hand in her own to pull him along. “Oh, you’re going to hate this,” she said with foreboding cheer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 got a rework and the intended break point. Rather than put 4.5 after 4.0 and edit 4.0 I removed 4.0 ver 1 and reposted 4.
> 
> Sorry for massive delays in chapters. I kinda started playing DnD? :D

“This is moderately insane!” Caleb shouted as they careened forward.

Yasha offered Caleb a huge grin. It was the first time Caleb had seen Yasha so openly happy. “Isn’t it fantastic?” she shouted back at him.

An improvised yoke let the four horses pull the wagon in tandem, and with enough rope and some creative knots they had managed to keep the beasts on course. Jester had spent enough magic to keep them upright and fit.

The real feat, and why Caleb’s nails were still clutched into the wagon’s side, were the thin strips of wood that had been created during his lengthy spellcasting and strapped to the wagon wheels.It wasn’t that Caleb was unfamiliar with sleighs, but who had ever heard of jury-rigging a wagon into one?

They sometimes seemed to fly over the road. The wood dragged over the ice with a ruckus as the horses found a comfortable rhythm and momentum encouraged a few bursts of cantering on the declining slopes before walking up the hills. Unseen divots rattled his teeth at random intervals and Caleb feared the entire contraption would collapse at any moment, with unknown catastrophe ranging from broken wheels to broken necks.

He could see the township ahead. It rose rapidly out of the gloomy ground straight before the wagon and horses. A solid defensive wall surrounded the town, though it was made out of wood and not stone. A look out walked the top of the walland armed guards stood idle near the road gate. This was the only reason Caleb wasn’t locked into Frumpkin’s eyes and ears and he now regretted popping back into his own body for the remains of the journey.

Fjord clapped Caleb on the shoulder lightly. “You did good. We’ll get your cat back to you in no time, just let us get settled.”

Caleb winced, both from the physical contact and the implication. Given an hour and the required materials he could change Frumpkin back, yes. However he now lacked the needed incense and he had doubts that such a backwater looking town could supply a high enough quality component. Life had been too interesting after leaving Zadash.

A bell began tolling faintly ahead and a ripple of tension passed through the party.

“Might be best we slow this wagon down a bit,” Fjord said as he rested a hand on his belt. There was no blade, what with his sword being called from the ether on command.

“Old habits fade slowly,” Caleb said to himself as he sent Frumpkin around the edge of the guard group. “Less fun,” he muttered as Frumpkin slowly stalked and paused every time the men turned in his direction.

Molly clucked with his tongue behind his teeth and pulled on his improvised reins. The wagon slowed to a sedate walk. 

“Well, I suppose this is where the excitement begins,” Molly said as a few guardsman appeared near the entrance to the town. He turned towards Jester. “How’s our cargo?”

“Safely tucked away and asleep, and she will stay that way. I know where we should take her once we’re settled.”

“Are we sure that any place in this town is a place for her?” Caleb asked.

“You missed a bit while you were casting,” Molly said. “I’ll catch you up after this.” Molly grimaced as he bound his bit of hair back. “Whatever this is.”

Caleb followed Molly’s gaze and settled his own features into a blank neutrality. Well kept armor, skillfully mended clothing, no gaunt faces peaking out from thick hoods.

Damn. A soldier who was well fed and well provisioned generally was also well trained and lacked an incentive to be bribed.

With a final dash Frumpkin got in close enough to eavesdrop. Caleb placed a hand on Nott’s shoulder just as she assumed the guise of a young halfing woman. She took a nip off her flask before resting her own hand on top of Caleb’s.

He listened and repeated what he heard.

“Magistrate won’t like it.”

“A smart man might ensure this lot is in and out of town fast enough the Magistrate doesn’t need to be involved.” He paused.” “Clever folk. Sled rails and all,” the leader said. The men shifted uncomfortable as the wagon drew closer.

“StormSeer says it’s a bad one coming. That ain’t likely to happen. Sir.”The youngest of the group who spoke looked barely old enough for chin hairs.

“And in a stunning change of fate, piss fall from on high,” the commanding officer said. There were a few chuckles. He shook his head and nudged the youngest man. “You see what I see?”

“A purple frekin’ tiefling.”

“Yeah. Looks like ol’ Hekot will be happy to see this lot after all.” More chuckles, but the youngest man looked away, nearly directly at Frumpkin.Caleb and his familiar collectively held their breath until the young guardsman set aside his distress and turned back to his companions.

Caleb popped back into the wagon as Frumpkin closed his eyes and hid his face under his tail. He was nothing more than another lump under a bush as the wagon drew to a stop a reasonable distance from the guards.

“Right.” Molly said as he drifted towards the back of the wagon, slowly settling himself next to Jester. “Jester, darling, you should look, well, other.”

Jester frowned but turned her face away When she turned back a beautiful blond woman glared at Molly.

Caleb fought his twisting and nauseous stomach and released his hand from Nott. He found his balance in the wagon and stood next to Beauregard.

Fjord glanced over at him with a silent query.

Caleb cleared his throat a few times to find his voice. “I know this is going to sound like a terrible idea, but I need to do the talking.”

Severals members of the party turned to look at Caleb before they returned their gaze to the guards. The men argued briefly amongst themselves for a moment before two of the four broke off and approached.

“You sure? Fjord said, his voice barely a mutter.

Caleb swallowed. “Know things you don’t. Have to.”He turned his attention to the guards.

The ranking officer was hanging back. This was good. The young man Caleb had seen through Frumpkin’s eyes was approaching them along with a fellow guard. That was less good. Caleb cursed his bad luck and sneezed. It was a useful way to hide his minor casting to alter himself. Not visually, of course. He’d been in plain sight of everyone. Still.

“Good Sirs,” Caleb called out. His voice sounded very similar to that of the youngest guard and contained the common melodic lilt of the Northern lands that swung vowels in odd directions. One would have thought the two were raised in the same village.

“We’re damned lucky to be alive to greet you. The Lady needs accommodations, and promptly. We’ve lost horses and more to this damned ice storm. Our guards will need some form of lodging as well.”

“What’s your business,” one of the guards said as they arrived within a comfortable speaking distance, just as the other said “Lady?”

“Lads,” Caleb said, bringing a certain amount of earnest frustration into his voice. “It’s fucking cold. We barely survived that storm, and it’s a tale to tell. I’ll gladly tell it once we’ve met our contract and delivered this fair one safe and sound where she’s gong. Can you help us do that?”

The younger man started to speak but was cut short.

“What’s a Lady,” the other guard said with a sneer, “doing with you lot of degenerates?” He put a hand on his short sword in his belt and planted his feet in a stubborn stance.

Caleb stopped himself from audibly sighing. He’d been hoping to speak more directly to the younger guardsman. The rest seemed sorely lacking in any concept of empathy.

Caleb rattled his brain for a way to draw out the younger guard who’s confidence he’d sorely misjudged when he felt a shift in the wagon. He glanced over his shoulder and half bowed, half nodded as Jester, in her finest, frosty noblewoman’s illusion, leaned out over the edge of the wagon and stared at the guards.

She did not speak. The obstinate man initially leered at her. Then his feet shuffled ever so slightly.She turned and whispered behind her hand to Caleb.

“Whatever you’re going to say next, make it real good. He’s nervous but also feeling his piss.”

Caleb set aside for later contemplation whatever the hell ‘feeling his piss’ might mean and examined the man more closely. Somewhat portly, and therefore of some means, old enough to have earned that broken nose in an honest fight, but — no. More likely in a drunken brawl. 

It didn’t really matter. He hadn’t counted on the impression Jester made on the other guardsman. 

If the damned fool could have begun composing poetry while preventing frostbite from setting in if he took of his gloves Caleb was sure there would be a hefty tome already earnestly written in honor of the fair and noble woman.

Caleb was suddenly very aware of how much time they had until Jester’s illusion dropped. A nervous laugh fought to escape him and he gave up and let it ring out. He turned and whispered back and pointed at the young guard before speaking to Jester.

“For the love of all you hold holy, bat your lashes at that boy but don’t overdue it. We want him to adore you but not touch you and break the illusion,” Caleb said behind his hand.

Jester let out an absolutely delightful titter and rested her hand in a familiar way on Caleb’s shoulder. This seemed a terrible idea. He wanted the lad in love, not jealous.

Didn’t he?

Caleb glanced at him as Jester looked from under her lashes. 

Oh. Maybe Jester knew a bit more about seduction than Caleb.

She held the poor sod’s heart in her hands.

“Well,” Caleb said, addressing his comments to him and him alone. “She’s decided that since you were smart enough to keep your mouth shut, you can do the honors of escorting her to safe lodging for the night. Surely that’s what you came up here to do, yes?”

The lad rushed through his words, suddenly more than willing to speak over his fellow guardsman.

“Of course we’ll escort her,” he said, anxiously elbowing the other man when he tried to interrupt. “Forgive Jerod, he’s — less —ahh — I mean —”

“We are pleased to make your acquaintance, good…” Jester trailed off as she looked at the young man expectantly.

“Ah. I’m Elith. Elith Finch.” He gave an awkward, unpracticed bow. “I’d be very pleased to show you to our finest inn for the evening.”

“What the hell?’ the other man said before the young man turned on him and hissed something unflattering in his ear. The most Caleb could make out was something of debts. The man was a gambler as well.

Jerod turned about and trudged back to the other guardsman. He muttered under his breath but it was enough. Elith made stumbling attempts at small talk with Jester. Jester played the part of vague and intriguing. The recent widow bit was a nice touch.

Elith led the horses by the halter through the gate into town. As he walked by the Captain leaned in and gave a few words to the lad but let them pass. There was an unhealthy chuckle from the three remaining guardsman on the ground and Caleb took note of the bowman above on the wall.

The town itself was coated in white and glistening in the evening light. It undoubtedly hid a world of dirt and muck. Not the largest of towns but more than a single inn or a mill by a river. Prosperous home clung to the main road near a central house of worship and less fortunate buildings extended out in radial from this center.

With a sudden, head to toe sweat Caleb realized that this town was laid out in a nearly identical manner to that of his childhood home. The cold bit at him instantly as the slight wind drove his teeth to mindless chattering.

He split from himself, a part observed the town around them, the faces, almost all human, that they observed.The rest remembered the smell of the fire and the grip of the priest’s hand on his forehead when he had condemned Caleb to burn.

His couldn’t breath. He was looking up from the bottom of a lake; the world filled with undefined shapes and blurred sounds. He thought someone said something important. The wagon came to a rocking halt.

A slap started Caleb into focus as Nott peered up into his face in her halfing disguise.

“Come on, you need to get inside,” she said as she tugged on his arm.

“Inside?” Caleb said. His voice was groggy as he ran a hand over his face. A thin sheen of ice flaked off his hair.

“The inn,” Nott said. She gestured at the entrance to a two story building - in the northwest part of town, his mind idly filled in from his childhood - and Caleb stumbled out of the wagon and into Fjord and Molly.

Fjord and Molly were not expecting the majority of Caleb’s weight to entangle their feet. The burden of the rolled tapestry and blankets, currently hiding one stow away Tiefling, fell and revealed a fair amount of the woman’s head, shoulder, and right arm.

From Caleb’s position in the sprawl of bodies he watched Elith let out a squak just as Jerod turned the corner of the wagon.

“That cunt! I knew you were bad news, you and that other freckin’ tie—”

The two guards slumped suddenly to the ground as Caleb let a few grains of sand slip from his fingers. Molly gained his feet, pulled the tiefling woman over his shoulder and dashed into the growing shadows.


End file.
